


Buy Me Some Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baseball, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas go to a baseball game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buy Me Some Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the fantastic [Plantainleaf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/plantainleaf).

 

“Here, hold this, Cas,” Dean said, handing over a tray laden with food. 

Cas held onto the tray gingerly, surveying it uncertainly. French fries, covered in chili and cheese hulked in one corner of the tray, while two enormous hot dogs lay buried under raw onions, relish, mustard and ketchup. “Dean, who —” Cas began, but Dean had hurried off into the crowd, leaving Cas to hold the warm and heavy tray of food.

They’re at a ballpark in Washington, DC, and they’re here for a baseball game. Dean’s been bouncing around with excitement for days, ever since he realized that the baseball team was going to be in town at the same time they were. He’d gotten them tickets and so here they were. Rather, here Castiel was, holding all this food, and he had no idea who was supposed to eat it all.

Cas took the opportunity to observe the teeming humanity filing through the park. Most people were wearing some variation of the same shirt, either in bright red or dark blue. Dean had managed to convince Cas to change out of his usual suit and trench coat for the outing, so Cas was wearing a pair of Dean’s jeans and one of his t-shirts. It was a black v-neck shirt that had been rather tight on Dean the last time he’d worn it (not that Cas had minded), and was only a little too big for Cas. The jeans were definitely too big, but Dean had handed Cas a belt and he’d cinched it tightly through the loops. He felt a bit uncomfortable out of his usual clothing, but he had to admit that he fit in much better among all the other people here in this outfit than he would have in his usual.

The people around him seemed excited, chattering with each other, bright smiles on their faces, laughter echoing throughout. There were lots of families with children, Cas noted, and he smiled at one particularly eager boy who nearly ran him down in his desire to get to their seats as soon as possible. He was wearing a bright red jersey and the back read “Strasburg 37”. Cas filed that away as something to ask Dean about when he returned.

As if summoned by the mere thought, Dean reappeared from within the crowd, two brown bottles in his hand and a grin on his face. “Got the brews! C’mon, let’s go find our seats.”

They wove in and out of the crowds and eventually found their way to their seats. Dean whistled appreciatively. “This is a sweet park, man. Check out the view.” He pointed off to Cas’s left, where they could see the dome of the Capitol building. The field was spread out beneath them and the giant screen to the right of them was showing some kind of highlights video of the previous night’s game.

Cas murmured something in response to Dean’s comments about the park, and held up the tray of food. “Dean, who is going to eat all of this?”

Dean laughed. “We are. And then there’s cotton candy. Oh man, I think you’re gonna love cotton candy.”

Cas furrowed his brow. “Cotton candy,” he said flatly. It sounded revolting, but the look on Dean’s face seemed to say otherwise. Cas decided to hold off judgment until he had the chance to try it out.

Dean relieved Cas of the burden of the food and handed over one of the bottles of beer. Cas took a drink from it, enjoying the cold bitter taste of it, and then placed it in the cup holder on the back of the seat in front of him. He craned his neck to examine the people sitting around them while Dean tucked into the food.

“Cas, you gotta try these chili cheese fries. They’re amazing.” Dean held out one fry that was covered in bright orange goo and a mess of what Cas could only assume was chili. It didn’t look very appetizing, but he took the proffered food from Dean and gave it a try anyway.

It was delicious. He closed his eyes and allowed the different flavors to melt together in his mouth, the smoothness of the cheese counterbalancing the spiciness of the chili.    ”Mm,” he said.

Dean eyed his friend warily, and then leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Cas, you can’t do stuff like that in public.”

Cas looked at Dean with surprised innocence. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t be held responsible for what I might do if you continue to make that noise,” Dean said, and his breath was hot and moist against Cas’s ear. The huskiness of Dean’s voice sent shivers down Cas’s spine. “We’re here to enjoy a baseball game. You gotta stop.”

Cas arched an eyebrow, but said nothing, instead opting to snake his hand onto the tray and take another fry. He chewed it thoughtfully, humming a little in enjoyment. Dean rolled his eyes at him and stretched his arm over the back of Cas’s seat, his fingers resting lightly on the nape of Cas’s neck.

They ate in silence for a while, just taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the ballpark. Dean explained a bit of how the game worked, but when Cas looked at him as if he’d lost his head, Dean just muttered, “Never mind, it’ll make more sense when we see it.”

They stood for the national anthem, and then there was the first pitch and the game had started.

The home team - the Nationals, Cas learned - seemed to be doing pretty well, and the fans around them get the chance to roar and scream their approval as the innings pass. Castiel found himself caught up in the energy of the crowd, clapping loudly when the Nationals earned a run, or groaning when someone struck out. Dean was also enjoying himself, leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, observing the field intently and shouting and cheering with the rest.

After the top of the fourth inning, the crowd got to their feet and four - no, five - gigantic headed people raced into the stadium, running for a finish line, which was a long piece of white crepe held by two people. Dean and Cas looked at each other, bewildered. What was going on?

The woman seated next to Cas must have noticed their confusion. She turned slightly, still trying to keep an eye on the field as she explained.

“It’s the [ President’s Race ](http://washington.nationals.mlb.com/was/fan_forum/presidents.jsp) . They’re [ Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt ](http://images.wjla.com/sports/0201-sports-nats-presidents_crop_606.jpg) and William [ Taft ](http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/nationals-journal/files/2013/01/taft.jpg). Taft is new this year. They race at all the home games.” The race ended with Lincoln as the winner. The woman laughed and applauded. “Teddy almost never wins. That’s why…” she pointed to her t-shirt, which had a picture of the giant headed Teddy, complete with grin and enormous mustache. The shirt read, “Let Teddy win!”

She pointed down at the field. “Their jersey numbers are the number president they are. Washington is one, Jefferson is three, Lincoln is sixteen…” she shrugged. “It’s dorky, but it’s so DC. I love it.”

Dean shrugged and nodded at the same time, and Cas thanked her for the info, murmuring that it was a lovely tradition. Dean caught the eye of one of the guys selling beer and held up two fingers, passing cash down the row to the guy, who opened the bottles and passed them back. Dean knocked his bottle against Cas’s, and they made a dull thunking sound, because the bottles were plastic and not glass.

“Having fun, Cas?” he asked.

Cas nodded. “People do this frequently?”

“Yeah. Some folks buy season tickets, about 80 games.”

“That’s a lot of games.” Cas settled back against the seat and tilted his face up toward the sun. They weren’t fully out in the open, but he could feel the warmth on his face, and he let it seep through his skin for a moment. He looked at Dean and noticed that a few more freckles were sprinkled across the bridge of his nose.

Cas smiled as he watched Dean enjoy himself - the way his whole body became immersed in the game, his fists clenching when the other team hit the ball and muttering, “Catch it, catch it”, as if his admonishments would help the players.

Dean felt Cas’s gaze and asked, “What?”, but Cas just shook his head and turned his attention back to the game. While watching Dean was perhaps one of his favorite things to do, there was always time for that, while the game in front of them was just over half way over.

After the seventh inning stretch (“Why is it called that?” “Because it’s when we stretch, Cas.”), Dean wandered off in search of a cotton candy vendor. He spent an inordinate amount of time deciding between the blue and the pink, not certain which color Cas would prefer, and not remembering whether cotton candy tasted differently depending on the color. In the end, after much dithering back and forth and several irritated glances from the people behind him, he picked up one of each and carried them back to their seats.

Just as he climbed up to their level, there was a great roar from the crowd, and almost the entire stadium rose to their feet, Cas included. Dean climbed the steps carefully, watching Cas react to whatever what going on in the field below. Cas was grinning from ear to ear and clapping enthusiastically.

“What’d I miss?” Dean asked, handing one of the cotton candies over to Cas.

“The player - Werth? - got a hit, and they got four runs. There were three men on base.”

Dean laughed. “Man, I’m sorry I missed that. It’s called a grand slam, Cas. When the batter hits a homerun and the bases are loaded? That’s awesome.” The crowd stayed standing for a little longer, cheering and stomping their feet.

“This is cotton candy?” Cas asked, examining the pink confection. He eyed the one that Dean had, which was a bright sky blue. “What is it, exactly?”

Dean ripped into his bag and pulled out a tuft of the sticky stuff. “Sugar, basically. I don’t know how they make it, but it’s sugar and food coloring. That’s why yours is pink and mine is blue. Here.” Dean held out his fingers to Cas, who leaned forward and took a bite straight from Dean’s hand. Dean tried not to think about Cas’s lips on his fingers as he watched Cas react to the treat.

The sugary flavor burst on Cas’s tongue and it dissolved almost as quickly. Cas couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not. He ripped into his own bag and tried the pink version. “Is there a difference in flavor?”

Dean, who had just put an enormous bunch into his mouth, shook his head while he waited for it to dissolve. After a minute, he said, “No, I don’t think so. Sam says the pink tastes better, but I don’t believe him. Want to try some more blue?” Cas nodded eagerly and dipped into the bag Dean was holding. He held out the pink version to Dean with a questioning eyebrow raise, but Dean just shook his head.

Cas went back and forth between the two colors, first some pink, then blue, and then some more pink until all of Dean’s blue cotton candy was gone and about a third of Cas’s pink cotton candy was left. Cas looked at the bag and then at his fingers, which were sticky and a pale purple from the food dye. Dean’s lips were blue, and Cas took advantage of the crowd’s excitement over another run to press his lips to Deans’, which were sweet and sticky. He licked at the outside of Dean’s lips quickly and then pulled away. “Mmm. I think I like blue better.” He stared at Dean’s blue lips for a moment longer, making it quite clear that it was more the flavor of the cotton candy on Dean’s mouth than it was the candy itself that he was referring to. Dean nodded faintly.

The game was over soon after that, and Dean and Cas filed out of the stadium along with everyone else, the crowd happy with the home team win, and filled with greasy food, sticky sweets and overpriced beer. Dean was walking just ahead of Cas, and he reached back with his hand to grab onto Cas’s, the better to keep them together in the mass of people. He laced their fingers together as they walked down the ramps and out onto the street.

In the car on the way back to their motel, Cas said, “Thank you, Dean. That was fun.” He trailed his finger over the top of Dean’s ear, which was bright red and hot from being in the sun. “You got a little sunburnt.”

“Don’t distract me while I’m driving, Cas,” Dean said, and he grabbed Cas’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “So, whaddya think, you wanna go to another baseball game sometime soon?”

“With you? Always.”


End file.
